Stay Here With Me
by syriala
Summary: Written for this prompt on Tumblr: "I'm not buying it, you don't walk into a door and get a bruise like that!"


Tony took a deep breath, before he knocked at the hotel room door. He waited anxiously, wishing that he had called T'Challa to cancel their date, but they barely got to see each other as it was, and he had missed his boyfriend.

But when T'Challa saw him he would be worried and concerned, and then would demand answers, which Tony couldn't give, and this whole evening would end in a fight. Tony should have stayed home.

He started to turn around but before he could make a step the door opened and T'Challa was there, already smiling at him and Tony wished he could turn back time. He wouldn't provoke Howard, wouldn't even go into the damn study, just so he could spend this evening with his boyfriend without the inevitable fight.

"Tony," T'Challa said, happiness obvious in his voice, and Tony briefly closed his eyes before he turned around.

He couldn't watch the smile fall from his face, so he kept his eyes on T'Challa's chest. Tony saw how it expanded, heard the sharp intake of breath and then T'Challa's hands were reaching for him.

"What happened?" he asked, so concerned and Tony mentally counted the minutes down before T'Challa would snap at him for not saying the truth.

"Nothing much," Tony shrugged and flinched slightly when T'Challa brushed his fingertips over the edge of the bruise on Tony's face. It stung.

"Nothing much," T'Challa repeated and carefully tugged Tony into the room.

Tony walked to the couch where he sat down, while T'Challa took extra care of closing the door soundlessly.

Tony kept watching his broad shoulders lift with every breath and he counted fifteen before T'Challa turned around to him.

"Please tell me what happened," he said and came to Tony's side, sitting down close and taking Tony's hand in his.

"I walked into a door," was Tony's biting reply and T'Challa frowned.

"Tony," he warningly said and Tony shook off his hand and shot up, paced in front of the couch.

"What? You know how clumsy I am. I walk into stuff all the time," Tony tried but T'Challa shook his head.

"I'm not buying it, you don't walk into a door and get a bruise like that!" T'Challa said, trying for calm, but his voice was tight.

"How would you know?" Tony bit back and T'Challa took another deep breath.

"My father was of the opinion that the Dora Milaje was not allowed to accompany me to school. That I should learn to fight my own battles." He shrugged. "I was a small kid. I got pushed around."

"Yeah, I bet you got pushed into doors," Tony snapped and T'Challa got up now.

"No. But I got hit by other kids during fights so I know how a bruise left by punch looks like. So you want to tell me what happened? Was it at MIT? I thought people grew out of petty fights eventually."

"How would you know if it was petty?" Tony shot back, bristling with anger, because T'Challa was _not_. He was still calm and collected and the timer in Tony's head had long reached zero and yet T'Challa was still not yelling at him.

"Just tell me the truth, please," T'Challa pleaded and Tony didn't know what to do, this was not the outcome he had expected and so he said: "Howard wasn't happy that I was going out again."

There was another sharp intake of breath and T'Challa clenched his hands on his thighs, before he shot up and engulfed Tony in a hug.

"Why didn't you say so before?" T'Challa said against his neck and Tony awkwardly shrugged.

"It's not the first time. I'm used to it."

T'Challa went stiff against him and then slowly pulled away.

"What do you mean 'it's not the first time'? Has this happened before?" he asked and his voice was dangerously low.

"Of course," Tony said nonchalantly. "Quite frequently when I was younger and more stupid. Now only when I deliberately provoke him."

"Tony!" T'Challa exclaimed. "This is not right!"

"It's not like anyone cared before," Tony replied and T'Challa went a bit white at his words. "I got used to it eventually. Learned what do say and what to do to avoid it."

"But not today," T'Challa said and Tony looked down.

"He wanted me to stay home. I couldn't."

"This happened because of me," T'Challa said and he was shaking with anger.

There was the instinct to shy away, angry people lashed out, but Tony forced himself to stand still. T'Challa couldn't do any worse than Howard and he was pretty sure he wouldn't.

"You provoked him so you could come to me," T'Challa whispered and his fingers ghosted over the bruise again.

Tony gave a half shrug, half nod at that and T'Challa softly kissed him.

"When I see your father the next time, he will know exactly what this feels like," T'Challa promised against his lips and Tony closed his eyes.

"Don't. Your father would not approve."

"You haven't met my father yet. I think it is time. Because Howard was certainly not a good father to you. My baba will be better at that."

"I'm too old to be adopted," Tony said with a weak chuckle and T'Challa hummed.

"We'll see about that," he said and then walked over to the bed, tugging Tony with him.

"What are you doing? We wanted to go out," Tony protested but T'Challa gently hushed him.

"We can order room service," T'Challa said and gently sat Tony down on the bed. "Right now it is more important that you get some ice on that bruise and that I have you in my arms, where you are safe."

Tony looked up with big eyes at him and took the icepack T'Challa offered to him only by instinct.

"This is not how I expected the evening to go," Tony admitted eventually and T'Challa laid down on the bed and pulled Tony to his side.

"I live to surprise," T'Challa said with a small smile and Tony got comfortable.

"You certainly do," he agreed and they spend the rest of the evening snuggled up on the bed. By the end of the night Tony had even forgotten about his pain.


End file.
